


far to fall

by ninjagloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, trashgirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjagloss/pseuds/ninjagloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Anakin by her side she just knew she'd never have to worry about falling far. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	far to fall

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I am trash and now so are you. Don't mind the stench.

 

Anakin Skywalker is positively like a whirlwind, she thinks with amusement gracing her lips in the form of a small smile. Her husband is so inconstant, so ever-changing that had she been any other woman she might would have found the abrupt swings and turns of his moods disorientating. One moment they are watching HoloVids in relative normality and perfectly peaceful silence and the next...well...

It is late at night and as much as she loves (absolutely loathes) the stupid HoloVid programs he insists on watching nearly every night he is home she manages to detangle herself from his limbs and remove herself from the comfiest spot on the sofa to go retrieve her hairbrush. Though Anakin loved everything about her including her hair, Padmé herself was not exactly the biggest fan of the unruly, curly crown. She knows if she wants to look even remotely presentable in the morning for her Senate meeting she has to subdue her curls one last time before bedtime, as per routine.

She is walking to and fro aimlessly in her near-sheer nightgown, brushing her hair into submission as Anakin's HoloVid nonsense rambles on idiotically with corny, canned laughter every now and then. She is listening to the person on the screen tell a very poorly excuted joke and she is so deeply concentrated on how  _awful_  her husband's viewing choices are that she doesn't feel his predatory gaze on her until it practically begins to burn her skin. She stiffens slightly, suddenly hyper aware of her every movement and of her body, and of the frilly, barely there little gown she dons. Recovering quickly from her brief surprise she continues with her task, taunting him in a subtle way she has long since mastered. She knows how he loves these little games that they play. He thrills in them - in the chase, and so does she, too.

Sometimes these games can last hours, if not days until one of them cracks under the sizzling pressure of it all. This particular game, however doesn't last very long at all. He is behind her in an instant, his body pressing against hers in a lustful, needy display. He is absolutely shameless, but then again so is Padmé when in the privacy of their apartment. She responds by pushing her back against his lean chest, barely containing a whimper as she feels his hardened member press firmly into her behind. And it seems that is all of the permission he needs.

He grips her by the hips, raising her off the floor completely. Again she is reminded of a whirlwind - a Tatooine sandstorm - as he whisks her out of the heart of the apartment and to the outside. Before she question him he has her over the marble like substance that constituted as the railing guard attached to the balcony of their apartment.

"Anakin!" Padmé eventually finds her voice and she is not happy about being in such an open position, even in the dead of the night, nor is she pleased about facing the gigantic descent below her. She grips blindly behind her, reaching for his hand, wanting him to let her stand up straight.

" _Relax_." He coos in what he probably believes is a soothing manner but comes off as nothing but salacious. Padmé shivers at the sound. "Don't worry," his voice is husky and he breathes hotly, his mouth pressed against the shell of her ear, "I've got you. Just trust me, Angel." This time his reply is both soothing and appealing enough that she obeys, slowly at first. When he feels her relax enough, he spreads her legs with one knee and then deftly slides a large hand under her teasing nightgown. She feels him smirk against her neck at finding her already so aroused. "I knew it. You always want me," he says smugly.

If she were in another position she would have rolled her eyes at his cockiness, but now her eyes are still fixed on the intimidating drop below her. Still, she does find with in her a reply in an attempt to quell his growing ego, "Well, you were staring at me like a aaah— _ **kriff**_." She gasps sharply and moans as he unexpectedly thrust inside of her, filling her so completely. It almost caused her to ache, the feeling of fullness. The filling of them combined was always so an excruciatingly intense pleasure that at times it bordered on pain, and Padmé loved every second of it.

She continued to moan heatedly, louder and louder as he begins his maddening, almost crazed pace. Like everything he does Anakin even makes love with a furious, single minded determination.

Bent over like this, staring down at the cityscape below her, even in her bliss she feels dizzy and disorientated. She feels as if she is spiraling down towards the hard ground below with only Anakin's tight hold on her body, and cock deeply buried inside of her are keeping her from tumbling to the concrete below. Though she knows she is secure in her lover's arms, she feels like she is free falling.

It is terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

His hot, calloused hands roam firmly and hungrily all over her partially covered body. Grazing and fondling and tweaking her breasts and nipples, before moving to the play with her clit as he mercilessly penetrates her from behind like a wild beast would his mate.

It is scandalous and wrong and perfect.

"Yes! Gods! Oh yes, Ani! Don't stop! Please, don't stop!"

She knows she doesn't have to keep telling him this. He won't stop until her legs finally give in, until she's reached that blissful peak that only he can give her, and until he's spent inside her. But, oh Gods does it feel so good. It always does, but this is something new and exciting as she dangles above danger at both his mercy and gravity's as he pounds relentlessly into her.

She feels so utterly feminine and worshiped. But perhaps what she likes most is that she feels so very completely his. Just as he is hers and no one else's.

When she comes she lets out a loud sob of sweet relief. As expected her legs begin to bucking from underneath her, but as always Anakin holds her up. She feels him tense and eventually he too comes, his seed squirting into her welcoming, warm body causing her to let out another grateful moan as she rocks back and forth slightly, uncaring of her precarious position, only caring to prolong both of their pleasure.

A moment passes and they stay like that for awhile longer. Padmé still feels like she is falling, even as she comes down from her orgasm, with Anakin flush against her as they both catch their breath. Then, she grasps his wrist, willing him to pull her up, and he does.

Settling beside him, her chest still heaving from their activity, she catches a glint of humor in his blue eyes and decides to playfully admonish him, " _Really_ ,  _Skywalker_ ," she mock-scolds prudishly, "You take your wife like a wild animal?"

"I didn't hear you complaining much," he smirks and clutches her closer to him once more, pressing a small kiss to her sweaty temple. "Next time you won't walk around wearing  _that_  gown and tempt me so, minx."

She smacks his chest. "I thought I was your  _Angel_?" she challenges with a raised eyebrow. Anakin holds her gaze steady and for a moment the two of them have a stare off, both wanting to outdo the other. Per usual Anakin cracks first and smiles widely. Seeing she has won, at least in this, all fake seriousness dissolves from her too and she smiles as her husband plants more kisses down the column of slender neck.

"I could have died," she says in between her ill-contained amusement as a last attempt to playfully scold her husband. "I could have fallen to my death!"

She means to continue mocking but when Anakin pauses in his ministrations, so does Padmé, wondering if she said something wrong. Before she can think on it much harder, the young Jedi tells her with all the earnestness in his body, "I'd never let you fall, Padmé."

Between the two of them something, a bond unlike anything she has ever known hums in what feels like approval and seems to pull them closer together, still. She cannot help but smile up at her handsome lover. Above him are the stars.

Feeling as if no words are needed, Padmé simply nods and cuddles closer into his embrace. She knows he speaks the utmost truth.

As long as the stars that watch over them from above remain in the sky, and as long as Anakin was by her side, she'd never have to worry about falling far.


End file.
